


what never was and never will be

by vaskianmountains



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: (check the notes for more specific warnings on that), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, M/M, Neverwere Memories Soulmate AU, References to Canon-Typical Themes, set during book one, when you soulmate dies your chest bruises and you receive all the memories of your fated life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-02-23 05:16:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23972893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaskianmountains/pseuds/vaskianmountains
Summary: As Damianos is whipped in front of him, Laurent can feel his own chest start to bruise. There seems to be some heavy object pressing against it from the inside that is trying but failing to reach out to Damianos. At the same time, neverwere memories are flashing in front of his eyes, showing him a fated life involving both Laurent and Damianos that will no longer come to pass.Both of these things should not be possible. Not unless Damianos was dying in front of him. More importantly, it would require Damianos to be Laurent’s soulmate.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 89





	what never was and never will be

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Collection of Neverwere Memories](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21188918) by [A_Beautiful_Irony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Beautiful_Irony/pseuds/A_Beautiful_Irony). 



> I realized that despite Laurent being in all of my fics, I’ve never actually written one from his pov, so I decided to remedy that with this fic which is probably the angstiest thing I’ve ever written. 
> 
> This was inspired by [A_Beautiful_Irony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Beautiful_Irony)’s [soulmate AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21188918/chapters/50439488), which is a collection of short ficlets/story concepts centered around the same soulmate AU concept in which you find out who your soulmate is only when they die. At that point a bruise forms on your chest over your heart and you receive all the memories you were fated to have with your soulmate if they hadn’t died. My fic was also particularly inspired by some of the things from chapters 1 and 2 from A_Beautiful_Irony’s fic, but it’s not required to have read them in order to understand this fic. (However, I do still really recommend reading their fic, both the first two chapters as well as all the other ones, because it’s really good if you like angst and pain.)  
> Also, some of the dialogue in the second scene of this fic was taken from chapter 3 of Captive Prine.
> 
> If you need more specific warnings than what is listed in the tags, I have put them in the end notes. There shouldn’t be anything more in here (besides the major character death archive-warning) than what is already in canon, but if you think you need more specific warnings, please do look at them. Also, if you think I missed anything that you do think should be warned for, please let me know so I can add it.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this, but also, I’m sorry.

The baths were too humid, not leaving enough air for Laurent to breathe. His skin was too tight, and he could still feel the burn of Damianos’ hand on his wrist.

His guards had dragged Damianos out and left Laurent on his own in the baths, but everything inside of him still told him that there was danger nearby and that he needed to get out quickly.

It was ridiculous, really. It had been his own idea to bring Damianos here, and Laurent had been in control the entire time. He had _known_ that he had been in control the entire time. He had known that his own guards had been right outside, and that when he gave the signal it would take less than a second for them to burst inside. 

But then Damianos had caught his wrist, and Laurent had not been able to move. Then Damianos had looked him up and down, letting his eyes linger on one particular part of Laurent’s body. And Laurent had been certain that this would be the part where Damianos would show his true colours. 

So he had asked him what was stopping him, because according to Damianos’ own words Laurent’s broken voice meant that he was old enough for him. Immediately, Damianos had let go of him. Rather than stopping to think, Laurent had taken his opportunity. He had hit Damianos with the back of his hand with as much force as he could muster, and called for his guards.

Now, with Damianos gone, Laurent should have been able to pull himself back together. 

Especially when Laurent had gotten exactly what he had wanted. 

After Damianos had refused Audin’s offer of Nicaise, Laurent had needed to confirm that the image he had created of his brother’s killer was still correct. Now, after what had just happened, Laurent told himself that he had been right, that Damianos wasn’t a good man.

With that conviction in mind, Laurent focused on his breathing in an attempt to center himself. With each deep breath, the air became less oppressive, and Laurent felt like he might be able to think again.

He picked up the washcloth that had fallen on the ground, and tried not to feel the ghost of Damianos’ hands traveling down his back and further still. He closed his eyes. Took another deep breath. And, as quickly as he could manage, perfunctorily finished washing himself before throwing the cloth back onto the ground.

* * *

Laurent stood before Damianos, whose back lay in ruins. He was clinging to the flogging post, and Laurent wondered whether he might simply fall onto the ground, right in front of Laurent in a mockery of supplication, if his wrists were released from their restraints. Damianos was slowly coming back to himself, and when he raised his head to look at Laurent, Laurent spoke, “I should have done this the day you arrived. It’s exactly what you deserve.”

“Why didn’t you?” Damianos dared to ask. “You are cold-blooded and honourless. What held back someone like you?” 

Laurent had now learned that Damianos’ own blood would run hot if presented with the right view, but Damianos had no right to detach himself from that second adjective.

“I’m not sure,” Laurent said. “I was curious what kind of man you were. I see we have stopped too early. Again.”

But Laurent’s own man protested. Damianos might not survive another round.

Laurent wondered why he should care. 

Damianos had killed Auguste.

Damianos had been the reason Laurent had been left alone with Uncle. 

Foolishly, Laurent had allowed himself to waver in his conviction when Damianos had refused Nicaise, but now he was under no deception anymore. 

Damianos was not a good man. 

“A gold coin says he lives.”

Laurent did not care if this meant he wasn’t a good man himself either. 

He watched as the whip landed on Damianos back again. And again. And again.

Laurent could feel his own chest start to hurt by now. Like some heavy object was pressing against it from the inside, trying to make its way through so it could reach Damianos. He clenched his fists to stop himself from reaching for his heart, where a bruise must be forming.

“Your highness?”

“I still did not say you could stop,” Laurent replied.

He couldn’t stop the memories rushing through his mind, either. Memories that had never been and never would be.

Auguste with his arm companionably wrapped around Damianos.

Damianos bringing a beautiful horse over to Laurent.

The sound of Damianos’ and Laurent’s own laughter mingling together.

Their laughter turning into something softer as the night deepened and their hearts started beating faster.

As memory after neverwere memory revealed itself, Laurent could only watch how lash after lash was brought down on Damianos, how drop after drop, Damianos’ life was draining out of him.

Impossibility after impossibility demanded Laurent to realize that Damianos was his soulmate.

* * *

Fate had meant for Laurent and Damen to meet at Marlas after the terms for peace had been agreed upon during the negotiations. Auguste had been the one to introduce them, the two of them already slapping each other on the back in friendship after only having known each other for the span of a day.

Not even a year later, Damen visited Arles. Officially, it was supposed to be the crown prince of one country paying a diplomatic visit to the crown prince of another country. In reality, it was two friends getting to finally spend time together in person after having to make do with only writing letters for most of the time they had known each other.

Laurent spent his time trailing after them. He was overjoyed to find that Damen, unlike most of Auguste’s other friends, didn’t mind having a shadow following them everywhere. In fact, after only a week, Damen started to actively include Laurent in most of their activities, and over the time of his visit he grew as close to Laurent as he already was with Auguste.

Already during that first visit, Laurent decided that if he were to ever get married, it would be to Damen.

As the years passed, and as Laurent grew to the appropriate age, Damen came to reciprocate those feelings. Laurent thought that meant they could finally get married, but Damen would hear none of it until he had courted Laurent with all the grace and courtesy he deserved.

When Laurent visited Ios for the first time, it had been warm enough to sleep outside, so Laurent made a nest of blankets and pillows on the balcony of Damen’s rooms. They spent their first night together—Laurent’s first ever night with another man—and Damen took the greatest care with him. Afterwards, they both confessed to thinking they were each other’s soulmates.

Their wedding was the following spring, although they had both considered eloping before that from the excitement of wanting to call the other their husband. However, as they were standing in the kingsmeet, as all Akielon Royal couples had for centuries, they were both glad to have waited so all their loved ones could be there. So Auguste could be there, so Mother could be there.

Laurent vowed that he would take care of Damen for as long as fate allowed them to be together. Damen vowed that he would spend the rest of life working on being worthy of Laurent. 

Afterwards, they would live happily together for the rest of their days until they were both old and grey. Damen would pass away peacefully in his sleep and Laurent would feel the soulmark appear on his chest, but no new memories would make themselves known to Laurent. He would be sad with Damen’s passing, but glad to know that they had lived the life they were meant to have had together.

In Laurent’s actual reality, none of that had come to pass.

At Marlas, Uncle had convinced Father that they shouldn’t accept Akielos’ terms for peace, forcing Damen and Auguste to fight each other on the field where Damen killed him.

When Laurent had been grieving Auguste’s death, Uncle had come to his side, and Laurent had allowed Uncle to convince him that sometimes soulmate bonds formed between family members.

Uncle had cast him aside within two years and ridiculed the idea of them being soulmates, saying he had only offered the suggestion out of pity because he couldn’t stand to see his then-still-sweet nephew sad. Laurent had been torn between a mix of emotions. Part of him had yearned that uncle was wrong while being disgusted at himself for hoping that his own uncle might be his soulmate. Another part had been relieved that he would finally be left alone even if it might mean that fated had given him no soulmate at all.

But Laurent did have a soulmate.

Laurent had killed his soulmate.

And right now, he was riding towards the woods an hour’s ride outside the walls of Arles in search for a place where he could bury his soulmate in an unmarked grave.

It wasn’t what Damen deserved. But then, it wasn’t the death Damen had deserved either. 

When they had reached the woods and Laurent spotted a small clearing in between two strong oaks some twenty feet off the road, he halted his guards. They made their way through the trees to the spot, and Laurent ordered his guards to start digging. 

They were efficient, but still Laurent wished they worked faster. When they had dug a deep and wide enough hole into the ground, two of the guards put down their shovels and walked over to Damen. They picked him up and lowered his body into the ground. As the other guards made ready to cover him, Laurent held up his hand. “No,” he said, “you can go back to the palace now. I will bury him myself.”

As his guards moved away and readied themselves to leave, Laurent looked at his soulmate.

After the whipping, Laurent had ordered his body to be prepared for burial. He had been washed and clothed from head to toe in a burial shroud made of clean white cotton. 

Laurent ached to see his face.

But Damen deserved his rest, and Laurent had already done more than enough to him.

Although, Laurent felt like he needed to do more. Damen’s body was big enough to fill the grave, but still it looked empty. Lonely. 

But Laurent didn’t have anything to give him. He only had his clothes and his signet ring that always hung around his neck. Nothing that would be of any use or comfort for Damen. He did not even have a weapon with him that might have been appropriate to bury with a warrior. 

Laurent turned to the loose ground next to the grave, but couldn’t make himself do it quite yet. 

As he let his eyes travel away from the grave and into the woods, his eyes landed on a cluster of spring flowers.

He walked over to them. They were blue crocuses. In Vere, blue flowers symbolized love, desire, and striving for the infinite and unreachable. They symbolized hope. In Akielos, as Laurent knew from his neverwere memories, crocuses symbolized young love, and their image was often carved into courting gifts. Laurent picked two of them before thinking better of it and digging several of the bulbs out of the ground to carry with him. 

He knelt down next to Damen’s grave and placed the two loose flowers on his chest. 

He didn’t bother using the shovel his guards had left for him, but buried Damen with his bare hands. 

Laurent didn’t know how long it took, but handful by handful of earth he filled the grave and sealed his soulmate away from this world. When there was only a small shallow hole left in the ground, night had reach the woods. Laurent replanted the crocus bulbs in the hole and sat down. 

He felt like he should say something. But he had done what he had done, and now there was nothing of worth left for him to say. 

* * *

Laurent was waiting on the steps of the palace for his uncle to come back from his hunt at Chastillon. 

He watched as Uncle rode up to the steps on his horse. When he dismounted and passed his horse over to a waiting servant, Laurent walked down to greet him. 

Even the idea made his skin crawl, but Laurent asked him for a hug. 

“Are you not getting too old for that, Laurent?” Uncle asked. “I think the last time you wanted a hug from your uncle was when you were fourteen.”

“Oh, but you don’t know what it was like,” Laurent said, “having to be alone with that slave. I don’t think I’ll feel safe again until you comfort me in your arms.”

Laurent knew that Uncle was suspicious, but here in public he wouldn’t be able to deny Laurent if he wanted to appear the reasonable uncle and Laurent the petulant and immature nephew. 

“Very well,” Uncle said. “Come here.”

Laurent knew that without proof the council would have him arrested and executed for treason. He would not be allowed to be laid to rest among his family, but his body would be left outside the city walls. And Laurent had no proof but for a handful of memories that had never even been. 

But those memories meant that Laurent knew. 

Uncle had been the one to change fate. The one who had caused Vere to lose both the war, her king, and her crown prince at Marlas. The one who may, still earlier, have even been the one to cause her queen’s death. 

Uncle had been the one to convince Kastor—whom fate had meant to be a good brother to Damen despite the few stumbles they would have had in their relationship—to usurp the Akielon throne and sent her crown prince to Vere as a slave for Laurent. 

And Laurent had killed him. 

Laurent had killed his soulmate. Damen. 

_Damianos_.

Damianos who would have loved him. 

Damianos who would have been, and _had been_ , a good man. 

Vere would be better off without either Uncle or Laurent. 

So, Laurent stepped into his Uncle’s open arms. 

He slid his hand into Uncle’s robes, felt along his belt, and grabbed the dagger attached to his hip. 

He plunged the blade up to the hilt into Uncle’s unprotected belly. 

* * *

Laurent wondered, when all of this was over, would they bury him in the woods next to a patch of blue crocuses?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope it didn’t hurt too badly (though who am I kidding? this was supposed to hurt). Comments and Kudos always brighten my day 💖
> 
> I took the Veretian meaning for blue flowers from [here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blue_flower). The Akielon meaning for crocuses I made up myself.
> 
> I’m over on tumblr, also as [vaskianmountains](https://vaskianmountains.tumblr.com/).
> 
> For those who need the more specific warnings:  
> Warnings for referenced past csa, ptsd resulting from that, death, murder, burial, grief, and disregard for one’s own survival. If you need to know anything more detailed than that, feel free to ask in the comments or on my tumblr. If you think I missed a warning, let me know and I will add it.


End file.
